Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 91636 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91636 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
“Finish your soup, then it is to bed and rest.”
“I do not mean to demand,” Fiona said, pushing her near empty bowl aside.
“I know,” Aliss said, and walked over to nudge her gently out of the chair. “You need to sleep to let your shoulder heal, and rest will also help you think more clearly.”
“I told him I hated him.”
Aliss heard the quaver in her sister’s voice, which meant tears were close at hand, though Fiona had not shed a single tear since the day after their mother died. She did not even cry the day they buried her.
“You were in severe pain and not thinking straight.”
“I felt the hurt in his eyes.”
“It was probably your own pain you felt,” Aliss said, hoping to ease her sister’s guilt as she helped her into bed and pulled the blanket over her.
“Nay, this pain was different. It was as if I could feel it down to the very core of me, and it lingers there waiting.”
“For what?”
Fiona strained to keep the tears that pooled in her eyes from falling. But they rolled slowly out as she whispered, “Hope.”
Aliss sat with her sister while she slowly cried herself to sleep. Of course the potion she had added to her soup had helped in inducing her slumber. But she needed a good solid night’s rest, and knowing Fiona she would have had a fitful sleep without it.
Besides this was a good time to speak with Tarr.
With a tuck of the blanket around Fiona, and after extinguishing a few candles, she silently crept out of the room.
Tarr looked anxiously at Aliss when she appeared in the hall and stood suddenly at her approach. “Fiona?”
“Is sleeping soundly and will remain so throughout the night.”
His wide shoulders sagged with relief.
Raynor stood and pulled out a chair for her to join them.
“I was hoping to speak with Tarr alone.”
Raynor obliged her. “My solar is a more private place for you to speak.”
Aliss thanked him and followed Tarr to the solar. It was a small room with a generous fire in the hearth, keeping it comfortably warm. A narrow wooden table looked as if it served as a desk, and several chairs took up most of the space. Candles added a faint glow.
Tarr moved two wooden chairs nearer to the fire and waited for her to sit.
Aliss intended not to mince words, but Tarr spoke first.
“Fiona hates me.”
He sounded devastated, as if he had just lost his best friend. Aliss reminded herself never to fall in love; it simply involved too much trouble and heartache.
“Fiona does not hate you,” she assured him.
He turned to stare at the flames, her words not assuaging his worry.
She studied his profile. He was a man of fine features, and she appreciated the way he kept his long auburn hair so clean and shiny. Sitting near him she could smell its freshness. It hinted of fresh rain on a summer’s day.
He was also a man of considerable strength, his tall frame carrying much weight, and yet there was not a soft spot on him. His shirtsleeves were rolled up and his thick forearms were pure muscles. His hands gripped the arms of the chair and while large and powerful, she had seen tenderness in those hands when he had cradled her sister in his arms and hugged her tightly to him.
If she had doubted that he truly cared for Fiona she did no more. She had seen the concern in his eyes, the worried expression on his face, and the gentleness of his touch. This man did not just care—he loved Fiona.
“It is not always easy dealing with my sister.”
“Fighting raging battles has been easier.”
She laughed. “It is good you retain your humor. You will need it”
Tarr released his grip on the chair and leaned back shaking his head. “I thought my plan simple. Pick a woman and wed her. I felt I had much to offer a woman, a strong clan for her to join, a man who would protect and respect her.” He shook his head again. “Then I met your sister.”
Aliss reached out and patted his shoulder. “Then something happened you did not expect.”
Tarr stared at her, his look one of disbelief.
“You fell in love with Fiona.”
He leaned forward and dropped his head in his hands. He raked his hair with his fingers as he swung his head up and rested it back against the chair. “I have no idea how it happened or when. And I still question myself. Is this love or lust?” He paused, his dark eyes round with confusion. “Then when she was hurt—” His confusion turned to distress. “I never feared as I did when Fiona toppled off her horse into my arms, and I never prayed as hard as I did while I rushed back to the keep.”